Date: Tue, 13 Nov 2007 09:36:36 -0800 (PST)
From: Wendi Darling
Subject: Servicing The Serviemen - Part 1 - The Basics
'Servicing The Servicemen - Part 1 - The Basics' {Wendi} ( real MM M^M
M-solo M_humil exhib disc-nospank size anal con ) [1!2]
After graduating from high school, I didn't know what the fuck I
wanted to do, so I decided to join the United States Air Force with my
friend, Danny. I had, already, registered at a junior college, but I
didn't want to go to school, so soon after four years of high school (three
years in an all boys parochial school and my final year in a coed public
one). I spent the intervening summer doing that at which I excelled:
sucking off and getting butt-fucked by some of my buddies and the firemen
at the local firehouse. I was, really, going to miss that action.
In any event, I went to the recruiter with Danny and enlisted. I
figured, sort of, that I would be stationed with him for the next four
years and I wouldn't have to worry from whence my next cream-filled cock
was coming. Danny would keep me well stuffed and satisfied.
We were flown down to Basic Training at Lackland AFB in San Antonio,
Texas, in a couple of 'Gooney Birds,' along with a dozen or two other
enlistees of all sizes and colors from a couple of other states.
"This might have good possibilities," I thought to myself.
We landed at the Municipal Airport in San Antonio in the wee hours of
the morning and sat around, outside the terminal, waiting for 'whatever.'
Finally, a couple of blue Air Force buses pulled up and this guy in a
starched and pressed O. D. (olive drab) uniform, whom I was to find out was
our Staff Sergeant T. I. (Training Instructor) Sharpe (a good name for
him). He started yelling and screaming at us for no apparent reason.
Maybe, this wasn't going to be so good, after all. We all got the fuck
onto the buses and off we went to the base.
When we got there, we got yelled at, again, and we all piled out of
the buses carrying our gym bags containing the items that we were told to
bring along with us when we, first, went to the Induction Center. We were
unloaded at a big dining ('chow') hall to get our first taste of Air Force
food. It, actually, was pretty good. After eating, we 'fell' outside,
picked up our bags, were put into a motley formation, and were marched for
about a mile to our barracks.
All the barracks for new enlistee Airman Basics were white-painted
wooden relics left over from WW II. The one that we got was divided into
four-man cubicles with two-by-fours and sheets of plywood. This one and
that of our 'sister flight' across from us, were the only two barracks in
our Squadron that were so divided. The other's all had 'open' bays, as did
all the rest of the men's trainee barracks on the base. We were told that
we were lucky to have the privacy(?). We were told to line up according to
height, the tallest in front. We were, then, 'run' into the barrack,
filling up the 1st floor, first. Danny was three inches taller (at 6')
than I was, so we got separated.
He was on the first floor and I was in a cubicle on the second with
one other airman from Chicago, one from Arkansas, and one from Georgia. I
took a top bunk. There was a pillow, a pillowcase, two sheets, two
blankets, and a pith helmet and a canteen on each bunk. There were four
footlockers on the floor for our personal items. There were four small
wall-mounted clothes racks, on which to hang our uniforms, and a shelf on
top of each, on which to stow our Garrison caps, pith helmets and canteens,
when not in use.
We were given a crash course on how to make a taut military bunk.
Those hospital corners were a nightmare for me, at first. The helmet and
canteen were to prevent us from getting heat exhaustion and heat stroke in
the heat of the late summer southern Texas sun.
We were, then, marched over to the Processing Center: a sprawling,
green, one-story building, which was, appropriately, nicknamed: 'The Green
Monster.'
Following that, we were marched over to the Chow Hall for lunch and,
then, it was instructions by Sgt. Sharpe on some basic commands and how to
march and salute. We told that all N. C. O. s were to be addressed as
'Sergeant,' not as 'Sir,' and were not to be saluted. All officers were to
be saluted AND addressed as 'Sir,' however. Any airman T. I. was to be
addressed, simply, as 'Airman.'
At about 4:30 PM (1630, Military Time), we were, again, marched over
for chow. Following that, it was back to the barracks. It was, now, about
'18:00,' and we were told that we were to shower and shave (six naked
G. I. s at a time in the shower room) and, then shave, again, in the
morning. Shave? I never shaved, before. I didn't need to. All I had was
'peach fuzz' on my face. As a matter of fact, I had 'peach fuzz' all over
my body, including my legs and groin.
I was pretty skinny for an 18-year-old. If it weren't for my high
scores on the tests that I took, I, probably, would have been rejected at
117#. I had a girlish sort of face and a slightly effeminate way, and if
not for my boyish shape and what was hanging between my legs, I might have
been mistaken for a girl. I was to learn, the next day, with no
uncertainty, that even facial peach fuzz was not tolerated.
I, just, loved the latrine (restroom/toilet) and shower facilities.
There were four commodes (without partitions or doors) on one wall and a
trough urinal on the other, so you could always see what each inductee
'had.' Some of the guys had trouble taking a shit in front of someone, at
first, but I was used to being naked in front of others and was, totally,
comfortable with it. At shower time, before 'lights out,' and in the
morning, there were always at least a dozen to eighteen naked male bodies
with various sizes and shapes of cocks and balls, bumping up against each
other. How, positively and absolutely, delightful! I, especially, loved
shower time. I'd stay in there as long as I could, coming out looking like
a prune. I had a hardon, almost all the time, although, it was hard for my
shower-mates to see it because of all the steam that was generated by the
hot water.
My dear friend, Danny, would wait until the very last moment to take
his shower. I was, always, waiting for him, and I'd, either, jack him off,
or suck him off, or let him fuck me, whichever was more expedient. Neither
of us wanted to get caught having sex with each other, because, at that
time, at least (I don't know how it is, today), 'queers' were given a
dishonorable discharge, or at the very least, a general one.
I was to find out, in very short order, though, that there were some
notable exceptions to this unwritten 'law.' That was, perfectly, okay with
me.
On the next day, we went back to the Green Monster, where we were
issued our initial uniforms (and had them tailored if they didn't fit) and
other provided undies and 'ditties.' Then, we all received our first
G. I. haircuts.
Most barracks had, only, a single T. I., but because we were such an
unruly and unholy mob, most of us being either from the Chicago or
Milwaukee areas, we, also, were 'lucky' enough to have another sergeant and
an airman assigned to us. The Tech(nical) Sergeant was an affable
mustachioed man from the South, who reminded me, quite a lot, of Tennessee
Ernie Ford. The other was huge hulking A1c (Airman First Class) Irby, who
hailed from New York State or somewhere like that. He was a really mean
son-of-a-bitch!
One night, Danny and I had missed one another at shower time.
Sometime, after lights out, I tiptoed down to Danny's bunk.
"The coast is clear," I whispered to him and he followed me to the
latrine.
I started jacking off the both of us into the urinal, and, then, we
did a solo J. O., together.
"Click," went the light switch and on came the lights.
It was Airman Irby!
"So you're the two pecker heads who've been leaving the pecker tracks
in the urinal and shower!" he roared, waking up the rest of the barracks.
There was no telling him that this was the only time that Danny and I
jacked off into the urinal. Someone else must have been 'doing his thing,'
too. We tried to clean up everything when we had sex in the shower, and,
besides, most of Danny's cum went down my throat or up my ass, and that, I
shit out into a commode and flushed it, away. It's a damned good thing
that I wasn't caught jerking off Danny.
Well, Irby decided to make an example of the two of us, right then and
there. He had us stand, naked, facing each other, woke up the rest of the
barracks, and had them gather around us.
"Airmen Darling and Garner were jacking off for each other in the
latrine," bellowed Irby. "I kinda thought that they might like to do it,
again, but, this time, have a larger audience. What do the rest of you
think?"
Everyone roared their approval.
All the attention was arousing me. As much as I tried, I just could
NOT get my 'shortie' to stay limp. With a mind of its own, it grew to its
'magnificent' 5 1/2-inch length and stood at attention. Damn it! Danny
didn't have the same problem. His cock stayed down. He, apparently,
wasn't the exhibitionist that I was.
"It looks like Darling is all ready to perform for us," said Irby,
drawing laughs and snickers from everyone. "Garner looks like his needs a
little help!"
Irby, then, prodded Danny in the ass and groin with this riding crop
that he always carried. Danny's big one began to spring to life.
"Now, that's what I like to see," said Irby. "Since you're, both,
hard, now, start beatin' it!"
Danny and I started to yank our respective meat, together. I could
see that he was embarrassed, but he had no choice in the matter. I,
however, basked in the limelight and pounded my pud for all that I was
worth.
Utilizing all my self-control, I held off from having an orgasm. I
heard myself moaning and groaning as my eyes rolled back in my head.
I, finally, heard Danny go, "Oh, uhn, uhn, yeeeeaaaaaah!" and I opened
my eyes to see him cumming all over his hand and the highly waxed barracks'
floor.
"Oh, God, oooooh!" I heard myself utter, and let fly with streamer
after streamer of my hot white cum.
Shit! It felt soooooooo goooooood! I would have like to do it, again
and again, until I could cum, no longer. I wouldn't have minded
entertaining the entire squadron like that, every night of the week and
twice on Sunday's. Perhaps, three times on holidays!
The whole barracks cheered.
"I hope that you, two, have learned your lesson," scolded Irby.
"Tomorrow, you will, both, stay back in the barracks and G. I. (clean) the
entire lower bay floor, in the buff and on your knees with toothbrushes,
and, then, rewax and buff it, by hand. Come to think of it, you can do the
upper bay floor, too. We want to have them both looking the same, now,
don't we? I'll inform Sgt. Sharpe of your chore, in the morning."
"Yes, Airman Irby," we said, in unison.
"Show's over," laughed Irby. "Now, everybody get back in your bunks
and don't let me hear a whisper.
Everyone filed back to their cubicles and crawled into their bunks.
"Wanna do ME?" one of my bunkmates whispered in my ear, unheard by no
one but me.
"This Basic Training shit might, just, turn out to be all right," I
said to myself.
The following morning, at 0500 (5:00 AM), a bugle blared 'Reveille'
over a speaker, and in 15 minutes, we all had to be out in front of the
barracks for roll call. It was a mad house in the latrine with everyone
trying to perform their morning ablutions. Everyone was dressed in their
sage green fatigue uniforms, black brogans (high-top shoes), and pit
helmets. Danny and I were the noted exceptions. To single us out, we were
made to fall out dressed in our T-shirts, P. T. (Physical Training/gym)
shorts and shower clogs (flip-flops). Then, the formation was marched over
to the Chow Hall for breakfast.
After eating, it was back to the barracks to make our bunks. Airman
Irby had Danny and I remove all our clothing except for our shower clogs.
He, then, had the entire Flight fall back outside for inspection. Danny
and I stood next to each other, at attention, wearing nothing but our
shower clogs and dog tags. Sgt. Sharpe did the open-ranks inspection. He
walked down through the ranks, commenting on the appearance of each airman.
Airman Irby followed, closely behind, with a clipboard in one hand and a
pen in the other. He jotted down any comments and any 'gigs'
(discrepancies) noted by Sgt. Sharpe.
Those that accumulated any gigs during the course of any week would be
given 'extra duty' assignments for the following Saturday morning and
would, possibly, and most probably, be restricted to the squadron area for
the entire weekend. When he got to us, two, naked ninnies, he stopped.
"Well, you, two, skinny jagoffs look pretty shipshape," said
Sgt. Sharpe. "I do hope you've learned your lesson. It looks as though
you've even shaved that peach fuzz, this morning, Darling!"
"Yes, sergeant," I replied, standing as stiff as a board.
I'm glad that my unruly cock remained 'at ease,' although I felt the
urge of an oncoming arousal.
"I'm sure that Airman Irby will keep you out of mischief, today," said
Sgt. Sharpe, closely eyeing Danny and me. "Won't you, Irby?"
"Oh, yessir, you better believe it," grinned Irby.
"Well, then, fall out back into the barracks. I want to be able to
see my face in those floors when we get back."
Danny and I retreated to the confines of the barracks, and Sgt. Sharpe
marched off the rest of the flight for some Code of Conduct training. Good
ol' Airman Irby, closely, followed us. He prodded us up the stairs and had
us stand, in our lack of attire, at attention, in the middle of the upper
bay. He harangued and cursed at us for a good 30 minutes in a most unAir
Force-like manner.
He, then, sent us down to the latrine to gather up some cleaning
supplies. We each grabbed a bucket, poured in some toxic-smelling
heavy-duty detergent, and filled each up, the rest of the way with steaming
hot water. Mercifully, we were only to use the toothbrushes to scour out
the cracks and crevices in the floor, but we, still, were to use
medium-sized scrub brushes for the rest. Starting with the upper bay, we,
first, had to stow all the footwear under the double bunkbeds on the top
bunks and the four footlockers in each cubicle on the bottoms. Then, it
was on our hands and knees on the floor, next to each other, buck naked
except for our dog tags, with our buckets and brushes.
We must have made quite an amusing site, with our lily-white asses
sticking up in the air and our 'jewels' hanging between our legs, swaying
to and fro and slapping against our inner thighs, while we played 'cleaning
lady.'
Irby, constantly, monitored our progress, and delighted in slapping us
across the ass cheeks with that crop of his, in order to speed us up. We
made pretty good time, and well before the morning was half over, we
finished scrubbing the upper bay floor, even with having to move the locker
and shoe-laden bunks, in order to facilitate our task.
We went back down to the latrine, emptied the buckets into commodes,
and refilled them with clean warm water. We grabbed us a couple of mops,
went back up, and swabbed the floor of any trace of the cleaning water.
The hot wind, blowing through the barracks (all the windows were open),
very quickly, dried the floor. Irby brought up two cans of Johnson's Paste
Wax and two damp cloths and handed one of each to Danny and one of each to
me. We were to apply a liberal coat to the floor.
After it dried and glazed over, Irby had Danny drag me over the entire
floor on an old wool blanket until it shone, like glass. This was the fun
part, at least, for me, anyway. We, then, put the bunks back where they
were and took down and repositioned the shoes and footlockers.
At 1145, Irby had us put on our T-shirts, shorts and shower clogs, and
marched us, two-by-two, over to the Chow Hall for the noon meal. We ate,
ravenously, due to the morning's hard work. After chow, we were marched
back to the barracks for an exact repetition to the lower bay floor of what
we had done in the upper one.
The heat in the barracks, from the baking afternoon sun, was stifling.
Luckily, we did the upper bay, in the morning. While working on the lower
bay, we would, frequently, run to the latrine for a quick cold shower, and
return to our chore, dripping wet. If not for that and the wind blowing
through and the fact that we were sans any type of clothing, we would have
died!
Thank Irby for our nakedness!
We finished scrubbing and waxing the floors before the rest of the
troops came back from their day of training, so Irby had us sit, naked, on
the front stoop of the barracks for the prurient gawking pleasure of anyone
who happened to be passing by. We received numerous guffaws and rude
comments from a number of Officers and NCOs and had to explain to each,
while standing at attention, the reason for the state of our undress. We
received the most taunts from the airmen of our sister flight.
Sgt. Sharpe returned with the rest of our flight, and had us stand,
still naked, and at attention in front of the barracks, while the rest of
our barracksmates stood 'at ease', in formation, laughing at us. He went
inside to inspect our day's work.
"Fantastic, 'girls,' he said, chuckling. "You did quite a good job.
Neither of you should have any problem obtaining a position as a cleaning
lady or maid, either in or out of the Service. Now, put on your fatigues
and fall in for chow."
Happy to be able to, at last, cover up our skinny nude bodies, we tore
into the barracks and donned our appropriate military togs. It was fun,
though, to be naked, all day, with my good buddy-lover, even though we had,
absolutely, no chance to have any illicit queer sex.
That night, in the latrine, at shit, shower, and shave time, I
received quite a number of ass-slaps, prick-pulls, and lewd propositions.
Danny told me that he was, likewise, approached.
Forty-five minutes to an hour before "lights out,' I heard Airman Irby
bellow, "Airman Garner, report to my room! IMMEDIATELY!!!"
"Oh, shit," I thought to myself. "Now, what?"
Danny came out of Irby's room in about 15 minutes.
"What happened in there?" I asked
"I had to tell him that you jack and suck me off and that you fuck,"
related my long-time fuck buddy. "I had to. I didn't want him to think I
was queer and have to do him."
"Thanks a fucking bunch, friend," I retorted. "And it's okay if he
knows that I am?"
"AIRMAN DARLING! ON THE DOUBLE!!"
"Oh, fuck," I said to myself. "What, now?"
I rapped twice on the door to the room.
"ENTER!" called the voice from within.
I opened the door, and there was Irby, sitting crosswise on his bunk
with his back against the pillows that were bunched up against the wall
behind him. He was clad only in his G. I. issue T-shirt and his legs were
spread wide, revealing an immense flaccid, uncut cock. I stood at
attention, before him, trying not to glance, down, at that luscious-looking
love muscle.
"I hear you like to jack and suck and fuck. Is that true, Airman?"
said Irby.
"Yes, sir," I said, quietly.
"WHAT?" yelled Irby. "I didn't hear you!"
"YES, SIR!" I yelled back.
"WHAT'S THIS 'SIR' SHIT? DO I LOOK LIKE AN OFFICER?"
"No, sir," I replied.
"AGAIN?"
"No, Airman," I said, starting to get scared.
"No, WHAT?" he replied.
"No, Airman Irby, I said, "You don't look like an Officer."
"And what else?" said he.
"Yes, I'm a queer and I jack off other guys and like to get fucked in
my ass," I admitted.
Did I have a choice?
"Now, that's better, Darling. You know that by getting caught having
sex with another guy or admitting that you're a practicing homosexual is
grounds for a 'Dishonorable,' don't you?"
"Yes," I answered, meekly.
"Well, maybe, we can work something out," he mused. "I haven't had
sex in a few days and I need it EVERY day, so if you'll be my bitch and do
what I want, I won't turn you in. How's that sound, honey?"
"Sounds like I don't have any choice," I replied.
"No, you don't, sweetheart, but don't worry. I know how to treat a
willing 'girl.'"
"Well, okay, then," I said.
"Atta 'girl,' smiled Irby. "Now, 'At Ease,' and let's get to it.
Start lickin' my joint so it gets hard."
I knelt down on the floor between his legs and lowered my head toward
that mound of meat. My God, it had to be 6 inches limp. It might take
some doing! I touched my lips to it and kissed it, and it jumped. I
extended my tongue and began to lick it, from its bulbous head down to its
hairy hilt. It began to stir AND GROW! When it, finally, stopped, and
was, totally, hard, it had to be 8 or 9 inches long and, at least, a good
inch and a half thick!!! It was, now, standing straight up and had an,
almost, imperceptible curve to it. Irby was moaning and twitching around
like a maniac.
"You got a great tongue and lips, baby," he groaned. "Now, I want you
to jack me off 'til I'm almost ready to cum, and then you can suck me off
the rest of the way."
I did as I was told. He was no different from any of the other men
and boys with whom I'd had sex, except, perhaps, for the size of his cock.
It was huge and well veined with large blood vessels and had a 2X size
purple head.
With my left hand, I cupped and kneaded his lime size nuts until they
got hard and swollen. With my right, I grabbed the big, now throbbing,
monster head. My delicate fingers hardly fit around it. I hadn't seen one
that huge since doing some of the firemen at the firehouse in my
neighborhood. Irby moaned and groaned in pleasure as his eyes rolled back
in his head.
I had to use both hands to properly jack him off, so big was his
fucking tool. I wondered how I was ever going to fit it into my mouth when
I blew him. I slid my hands, lightly, up and down his shaft, from that
'glowing' head to where it disappeared into a mass of pubic hairs. My new
'mentor' was in sheer bliss and ecstasy.
"Blow me, NOW!" yelled Irby, breathlessly and, probably, loud enough
for the entire barracks to hear.
I lowered my head, stretched open my jaws as wide as humanly possible,
and managed to get my lips and teeth around Irby's 'one-eyed monster.' I
couldn't get much more than the head and a portion of the shaft into my
mouth, and, even then, it touched the back of my throat. I decided that I
would have to continue stroking and jacking the lower part of it while my
mouth paid homage to its 'business end.' This appeared to work, quite
well. Airman Irby sure as fuck didn't mind it, and neither did I, for that
matter. Irby's body shuddered and stiffened, as he yelled out, and I felt
his dick flare out and grow, even, larger in my mouth.
Then, with a terrible-sounding grunt he unleashed torrent after
torrent of hot ropes of cum into my mouth and down my throat. I wasn't
able to swallow fast enough and the manjuices came out through my nasal
passages and made quite a mess on the lower half of my face and on Irby's
dick and pubes.
I made sure, however, that I sucked every bit of sweet cream out of
his big 'Twinkie.'
Irby wasn't, exactly, happy about the mess that I made.
"Go upstairs; get one of your washcloths and soak it in some warm
water on your way back," said my new lover. "And bring one of your dry
towels, too. On the double! Wipe off your fucking face, while you're at
it."
I raced out of Irby's room and up to my cubicle and footlocker, as
fast as my skinny legs could carry me. Cum was, still, dribbling out of my
nose and I snorted it down, while I ran. There were noticeable globs of it
on my upper lip and chin, too.
"I know what y'all were doing!" drawled my hillbilly Arkansas
bunkmate, all too knowingly, as I rummaged through my footlocker and picked
up the two rolled pieces of white Terrycloth.
"Yeah? So what," I snapped back.
I zipped down the stairs to the latrine, put the washcloth in some
warm water and wiped the drying cum off of my face, rinsed it, and wrung it
out, a bit. Then, I tore back across to Irby's room and rapped on the
door.
"Get your queer ass in here!" was the reply.
I went in.
"Wipe all this gooey shit of my dick and dry me off!"
I did as I was told.
"Now, take off those shorts and sit down, here, next to me," he said,
speaking softly, now, and patting next to him on his bunk.
I slid my white boxer shorts down off my hips, and let them fall to
the floor. I stepped out of them and my shower clogs, at the same time,
and stood stark naked, except for my dog tags, in front of my T. I.
"Well, come on, Darling," he said. "Got on over here. I'm not gonna
bite you. Not yet, anyway."
I got onto his bunk and scootched over, next to him. He put his
well-muscled arm around me. He was, surprisingly, gentle.
"Now, isn't that better, sweetie?" he asked, not expecting an answer.
"Sure, it is. Do you 'French?'"
"I've done just about everything, Airman Irby," I answered, "and I'll
do anything that you want."
"Now, that's very good," he said. "It'll be very nice having a
'girlfriend' like you, right, here, in the barracks. I won't have to go
into town and I can have you anytime I want. I can make it easy for you or
hard for you, and I don't, only, mean my prick. It's up to you."
Then, he leaned over and gave me a hard open-mouthed kiss.
"I hope you rinsed your mouth out while you were at it," he said. "I
don't really like the taste of cum... especially, mine."
"As a matter of fact, I did," I told him. "I'm, always, mindful of
things like that, just in case."
While gently fondling my little 'clitty' and tiny balls, his tongue,
an unusually long one (to match his cock, I supposed), drove in, almost,
down to my tonsils. I, willingly, reciprocated, and responded to his
manipulation of my genitals. My 'middle leg' stiffened and grew to its
entire 5 1/2-inch length. I was so very embarrassed to have such a
'shortie.'
"We'll just sit, here, and play with each other to get us hard,
honey," said Irby. "I'll jack you off if you want me to."
"That would be, simply, marvelous," I told him.
We massaged, tickled, fondled, squeezed, and stroked each other. He
got hard and so did I. Finally, when I could neither take it nor hold
back, any longer, I started pumping it out.
"WOW!" said Irby. "You can really shoot for someone with small balls.
You gotta have some pressure in them."
"They, always, perform, quite well, when they have the right person
operating them," I said, winking, coyly, at my big bad stud.
"Time for tonight's finale, my sweet young Airman Basic. Get face
down on the bunk!"
"Oh, God, here it comes," I thought, as I assumed prescribed position.
I buried my face, sideways, on the pillow.
Irby went to his dresser and pulled a big jar of Vaseline Petroleum
Jelly out of the top drawer.
"This'll be a much better use for this 'goose grease' than for itches
and chafed skin," he said. "Spread your legs and cheeks for me, Darling!"
I couldn't tell if he was addressing me by my last name or an
endearing one. No matter, though. I did, exactly, as I was told to do. I
held them apart as far as I could, exposing my well-used asshole. I could
feel the breeze from the electric fan blowing across it.
My lover knelt down between my legs on the bunk. I felt the
unguent/lubricant being applied, liberally, around the 'rosebud' in my
asscrack, and I shuddered at feel of its cool greasiness. I took a
backward glance and saw him lubing up his dick. Then, he wiped his hand
clean with my towel. He fell forward with his hands on either side of my
body, keeping his weight off of my frail frame, for the time being.
Very shortly, I felt something at the entrance to my 'love canal.'
Irby, now, leaned into me and his 'power piston' entered the warm, wet
confines of my waiting 'pussyhole.' He pushed in and I pushed out and I
heard a voice squealing like a little piggy. It was my voice. I sounded
just like a damned girl. He shoved it in, farther, and I shrieked in pain.
"Shut up, you slut," Irby hissed. "Do you want the whole base to know
you're getting fucked?"
I bit my lip and extended my arms over my head in like a 'hands up'
position, in order to get them out of Irby's way. His entire weight was,
now, on me, and he bit the nape of my neck while he pounded away at my
aching 'cunt.' The aches and the pain, gradually, subsided, and a feeling
of pure lustful pleasure replaced them. I, no longer, had any control over
my body. The damned thing responded, involuntarily and instinctively to
its primeval sexual urges. I felt my hips and pelvis grinding and rotating
fiercely against him. My weary ass rose up to meet his every inward
thrust. We danced to the tune of that inner rhythmic rumba for I don't
know how long. I know that cock of his reached well into my colon. I felt
that 'sausage' growing fatter inside me, and I knew from experience, that,
soon, it would be THAT time. He flared out to an even bigger size; then,
shuddered and stiffened. He started to pump my teenage pussy-ass like a
bull gone insane. In pleasure, I cried out for more.
"Unh! Ugh! Aaaaaaah, yeah! Jesus Christ!" yelled Irby, as he,
totally, filled my bowels with 'gallons' of his hot sticky cum.
He collapsed on top of me, and the weight of his body, which I
estimated at about 250, almost smothered me. We must have lain there for a
good ten or fifteen minutes. He pulled out of me, and I, almost, shit,
right there. I was going to run to the latrine to let myself drain, but he
stopped me.
"Not so fast!" he said. "I don't remember dismissing you. You have a
clean-up job to do. You're my bitch, slave, AND housemaid. There's,
still, work for you to do."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"That's more like it, Airman," said Irby. "Now, lick my cock, good
and clean, and, then, wipe me off and dry me."
I stuffed my shorts into my young man 'pussy' like a tampon, so I
wouldn't leak and have more to clean up.
He opened the door to his room and, standing, there, naked with his
soft wet cock hanging, limp, between his legs, he bellowed out, "Five
minutes 'til 'Lights Out!"
He shut the door, sat back down, crosswise, on his bunk and said, "Get
to work. You got five minutes."
I knelt, back down, on the floor between his knees, and licked and
lapped up any and all traces of his cum and my bodily fluids from his cock
and pubic area, and sucked out any remaining cum out of his pisshole. I,
then, took the washcloth and wiped off any trace of the Vaseline that,
still, remained on his person. Finally, I took the towel and, gently,
dried him off.
"Good job, sweetheart," he told me. "You can go, now. DISMISSED!"
"YES, SIR," I said as I snapped to attention and saluted him. "Have a
good night, SIR!"
"You know that's not necessary or required, airman, but it was very
kind of you," he said, his demeanor, softening. "Please, close the door on
your way out."
I picked up my washcloth, towel, and shower clogs, and exited Airman
Irby's room, closing the door behind me. I raced, naked and barefoot,
through the lower bay toward the latrine, holding my shorts in my asshole,
so that I didn't leave of trail of Irby's cum and whatever else my colon
was trying to rid itself.
Laughs and jeers, galore, came from my fellow airmen.
"How was it? How many times did he fuck ya? Did ya like it? Did ya
suck his cock, too? Whatcha holdin' in there?" were, only, a few of the
guffaws.
I guess that I was destined to be Irby's bitch. That was, just, fine
and dandy with me, though. I got to move into his room with him; I didn't
have to pull any K. P.; I didn't have to go on any marches or get sent on
any details; and I didn't have to go through the Confidence (Obstacle)
Course or qualify with those M-1 carbines on the rifle range. Irby took
care of all my records for me.
I had to be present for open ranks and footlocker inspections, but not
as an 'inspectee.' I was Irby and Sgt. Sharpe's clipboard carrying
assistant for the remaining 7 weeks of basic training. They even got me
promoted to Airman 3rd Class. That galled the rest of the flight, but I
didn't care. Airman 1st Class Irby was my mentor, lover, and protector.
He even fixed it so that I could stay with him in the Basic Training
Squadron for 90 additional days beyond the required initial 8 weeks.
During that time, Irby assigned me to find a sex-slave replacement for
myself for after I left. That was rather choice duty, and, naturally, I
managed to ferret out a very darling Mexican homo for Irby's new bitch.
I did, however, have to suck off suck off Sgt. Sharpe, every day, and
jack off, suck off, and/or get fucked by some of the other T. I. s in the
squadron, and there were a lot of them.
I would, also, have sex with my former bunkmates, whenever they got
horny. That was okey-dokey with me, though. I was used to getting it, a
lot. The best of all was that Danny and I were allowed to jack each other
off, any time that we wanted, with or without an audience. I was even able
to get him to be comfortable with other airmen watching me give him
blowjobs.
Irby, also, 'introduced' me to another T. I. in the squadron. A1c
Garcia was born and raised in San Antonio. He was a leader of a Mexican
street gang and was given the 'opportunity' of joining one of the Armed
Services or going to jail. He chose the former, of course. He took me to
town, one night, and 'showed me off' to his buddies. They ADORED me. So,
for my last two months at Lackland, not only did I satisfy the sexual
perversions of Irby, Sharpe, and Garcia, but I became the main Gringo bitch
of all the guys in Garcia's gang.
At that time, only the trashy 'white' girls would put out for the
Mexicans. The Mexican girls were almost always chaperoned and kept under
lock and key. This was made for me! They, now, had a willing new 'cunt.'
At the end of 8 weeks, Danny was sent overseas to Turkey. I was
devastated, but found that by concentrating, even more, on my sexually
duties with Irby, Sharpe, and many countless others, my horrible sense of
loss and separation, greatly, lessened and abated.
Due to the fact that I was such an intelligent cocksucker, after the
90 days were up, I was sent to a Tech(nical) School base near Biloxi,
Mississippi, to learn the intricacies of radio and radar. There is not too
much to relate about my new base, because I was kept quite busy trying to
absorb all that I could about electronics, and radio and radar analysis and
repair.
My rather raunchy reputation, however, somehow, mysteriously preceded
me through the grapevine, and I spent most of my off-duty hours at Tech
School, bunking in the same room as the Barracks' Commander. I went
through two of them during my tour, performing the same basic 'functions'
that I did for my lovers at Lackland.
They were, also, each A3c, the same as I was, but they had shown
leadership potential and were sent to 'Rope School.' After he
successfully, completed the required number of hours, a new 'Rope' was
awarded a braided 'rope' to be hung from one shoulder or the other on the
outermost jacket or blouse being worn. He was, then, awarded a command
over one of the school barracks. I was, however, a born follower and a
fantastic 'bottom,' so I was never considered for this position. I did
manage to 'procure' for myself, many other privileges by 'performing' for
roomie Commanders.
After several months of concentrated schooling and debauchery, I was
assigned to a permanent. Aaaah, at last ... the 'real' Air Force.
Please, feel free to e-mail me with your comments: Wendi at
sweetwendi61704@yahoo.com